The slap echoed through the foyer. "You have humiliated this family!" her father roared. Belle stepped forward, dabbing at her dry eyes with a silk handkerchief. "Father, don't be too hard on her," she said in a sugary trill. "I'm sure Xia didn't mean to be found staggering out of the Presidential Suite like a common tramp. She probably just... lost her dignity."
Xia looked up, her cheek burning. "Father, I was drugged! Belle, you know exactly what happened!" Belle gasped, hiding a smirk. "Oh, Xia! I spent all night looking for you. I even had to apologize to Manager Wang on my knees because you stood him up."
Jianuo interrupted with cold finality. "There is only one way to save our name. Manager Wang is still willing to marry you. He will keep you quiet and sign the merger." Xia’s blood ran cold; Wang was known for his cruelty. "I won't do it," she whispered.
"Then you can watch your mother die instead," her stepmother hissed. Belle leaned in, her voice a predatory needle only Xia could hear: "Go ahead and run. But I’ll make sure the doctors stop your mother's oxygen by morning. Now get out."
Belle pulled back, her face shifting back to heartbreaking concern. "Father, she's being so stubborn. Maybe she needs to see what the real world is like without your money." Jianuo pointed to the door. "You are no longer a Lin. Get out."
As Xia turned to leave, Belle followed her to the door, whispering: "Don't forget to send a postcard from the gutter, sister. I'll be busy being the only daughter this family needs." The doors slammed shut, and Xia could see Belle laughing through the glass as she skipped back to the dining room.
Two Weeks Later
The rain in the city was a relentless wall of water, turning the skyscrapers into grey ghosts. Lin Xia stood huddled under a narrow, leaking bus shelter just outside the Lu Group Headquarters, shivering violently. Beside her, an elderly flower vendor was struggling. The wind had picked up, threatening to flip the woman's fragile umbrella and scatter her only source of income—bundles of white jasmine—into the gutters.
Xia checked her watch. Ten minutes until her interview. She looked at her only professional outfit—a thin, beige blouse and skirt she had scrubbed by hand in a shelter sink. If she stepped out now, she would be drenched in seconds, and her chances at the job would vanish.